| So hear me roar on my dusty lion
|
| They will heed the call for a quarter mile
|
| Tis the season to roam for a mate
|
| Now my doorbell’s sure to ring if I just sit and wait
|
| Yes they come to play
|
| On these legs like iron
|
| They will give you more
|
| Than the favored prize at the fair is worth anymore
|
| You get the keys to the city
|
| And directions to my door
|
| But out on the rooftops the cold just keeps coming
|
| Maybe I’ll fake it a little bit more
|
| Surely the weather doesn’t peep through my sweater
|
| Or sting the eyes of those who I adore
|
| Yeah watch me go down that old tar trail
|
| Let the hair grow long on my mane and tail
|
| Til you can’t see my eyes or my ears
|
| And you don’t know whether I’ve been missing for days
|
| Or I’ve been missin' for days or I been missin' for fuckin' years I been
|
| missin' for fuckin' years
|
| Cuz under the moonlight the weak become weary
|
| Somethin' a lurkin' might spot them and then
|
| Back to their home they will hastily scurry
|
| Just to find the pranksters have let themselves in
|
| Sayin' knock knock knock
|
| Is anybody home
|
| Sayin' knock knock knock knock knock knock
|
| Is anybody home
|
| But out on the rooftops the cold just keeps coming
|
| Maybe I’ll fake it a little bit more
|
| Surely the weather doesn’t peep through my sweater
|
| Or sting the eyes of those who I adore
|
| Cuz the mightly old king of the bridge I be
|
| From my bed of rope everything I see
|
| Times a changin'
|
| No food for the gulls
|
| The beach house misses you sincerely
|
| It complains you never call
|
| But sadly the world has grown fat on my shoulders
|
| All we need is a break from time to time
|
| Surely the weather doesn’t get much better
|
| I hope this ain’t the time of my life
|
| Yeah surely the weather doesn’t get much better I hope this ain’t the time of
|
| my life
|
| Yeah surely the weather doesn’t get much better I hope this ain’t the time of
|
| my life |